


His Beauty

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 7, Post-Canon, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17484623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: As Jaime watches Tyrion marry Sansa, something begins to stir inside him...





	His Beauty

Jaime enveloped his brother in a warm hug. “I’m so happy for you!” he exclaimed, glad that his little brother had found love at last. “Sansa’s a lucky girl.” He dropped to his knees and straightened Tyrion’s doublet, giving his brother an affectionate smile. “I can’t believe this is the first real wedding in our family.”

“I’m the fortunate one,” Tyrion gushed, his voice choked with emotion. “I never imagined that an ugly dwarf like me would end up with a princess like her. I still find it difficult to believe that a beauty such as her would choose a hideous beast for a husband.” His eyes were a mix of joy and doubt.

Jaime, however, had an entirely different opinion on the matter. “Beauty bears no meaning when someone worms their way into the deepest corners of your heart, brother.” _When one touches you so profoundly that you don’t even know they’ve become a part of you, you start perceiving them differently, you begin admiring the qualities you once despised in them. You fall in love with them so hard that it hurts._ “Sansa saw in you what no other woman did. To her, _you_ are beautiful.” He turned away, his thoughts elsewhere, visions of a tall, blue-eyed wench filling his head. A squeezing sensation spread through his chest as he let his mind wander towards her.

“Look at me,” Tyrion tugged at his brother’s arm, drawing his attention. “Do you--” he searched Jaime’s eyes “--see in _her_ what no one else does? To you, _she_ is beautiful, isn’t she?”

Jaime sighed, deciding to ignore the question, for it was one he had been evading all these months.

“Stop running away from yourself, Jaime, listen to your mind, and not your head.” Taking his hand, Tyrion placed it on his chest. “Feel your heart, brother, do as it says.”

Jaime knew only too well what he wanted, but lacked the courage to follow it. It had been a week since he had arrived at Winterfell, but whenever he saw her, a hundred doubts clouded his mind. Would she take it well if he confessed his heart out to her? Did she feel the same for him? Would he be able to overcome the darkness of his past and give himself to her wholly? Before he could say anything to her, he had to find some answers himself.

He was saved from further deliberation by a knock on the door. A man had arrived to summon them. “It’s time.” He led Tyrion to the door.

They reached the Godswood and waited by the tree, looking forward to the bride. A while later Sansa came, and by her side was the king himself, for he was the one who would give her away. Jaime looked around restlessly. Tyrion’s beauty had arrived, but where was his?

Then, as if it were a message from the gods themselves, she appeared, striding towards the first row of the guests with eyes for none but Sansa, her gait as un-ladylike as ever. Oddly, Jaime found himself unabashedly admiring everything about her tonight, her homely face, her crooked teeth, her tall, mannish frame… all of that seemed doubly attractive. He would have to thank his brother for one thing, Sansa would no longer need to be taken care of, freeing the wench from her vow. He let his eyes linger on her. Dressed in a gown that matched her eyes, she looked far better than in the ugly pink monstrosity she had been made to wear in Harrenhal.

 _Harrenhal,_ he mused, the memory bringing a smile to his face, for the ruins held a special place in his heart. That was where he had lost his hand, but gained something else. He had given up his arrogance, but reawakened his honour. It was there, that he had become the honourable Ser Jaime Lannister, the oathkeeper. Harrenhal was where he found himself, and _someone_ … someone who was as different from Cersei as different could mean.

_My wench, my Brienne, my beauty._

She stood alone at a distance, and when he stole a glance at her, he caught her doing the same. Even in this darkness, with just the glow of the moonlight and the few lamps illuminating the woods, he could see her blush when she looked in his direction. But he didn’t have the privilege to stare at her for long, for it fell upon him to officiate the ceremony as the head of his house.

“Who comes before the old gods this night?” he asked, looking at Jon.

“Sansa, of the House Stark comes here to be wed,” the king announced. “Who comes to claim her?”

At Jon's words, Jaime’s eyes strayed towards the wench again. _Jaime, of House Lannister,_ said his heart, his gaze fixed on Brienne as Tyrion came forward. _I love her, I always will._ Watching his brother say the sacred words and claim Sansa as his wife made everything as clear as daylight to him. No more questions, no more confusion. He had found his answers.

 _She is the answer to all my questions._ He had to tell her, he had to make haste.

“Who gives her?” Tyrion’s voice brought him back to senses.

“Aegon--” Jon hesitated, apparently trying to come to terms with his true identity “--of House Targaryen.”

The ritual concluded with Sansa accepting Tyrion as her husband. All along, Jaime kept glancing at Brienne, wishing that he too be bestowed upon a blessing as lovely as the one his brother received tonight. Soon the crowd thinned and most of the guests had dispersed until he and Brienne were the only ones left.

“Lady Brienne,” he called out to her just as she was about to follow the others. She turned around, approaching him with eyes fixed on the ground.

“I never got the chance to speak to you since I arrived. So, I thought--” he found himself at a loss for words “--I just wanted to apologize for my curt behaviour at the dragonpit.”

“There’s no need for that, Ser Jaime,” she said, her voice as sweet as ever. Was it just his imagination, or did the divinely serene atmosphere of the woods make her sound all the more appealing?

”Also,” he licked his lips nervously, apprehensive that he might ruin the moment by saying something wrong. “Isn’t it wonderful that Tyrion and Sansa have discovered their love for each other?” he blurted out, cursing his lack of courage to tell her the truth.

It was only then that she looked up at him, the smile on her lips melting his heart as their eyes met. She rarely smiled, but when she did, she made him go weak in his knees. “Indeed,” she agreed. “After all she’s been through, Lady Sansa could do with a bit of love in her life.”

“Just Lady Sansa?” Jaime prompted, hoping she might take the bait.

“Lord Tyrion too,” she quickly added.

He clicked his tongue in irritation, realizing he would get nowhere if he went on like this.

“Did I say something wrong, Ser Jaime?” She blinked a million times, looking upon him with eyes full of innocence, a virtue he had never imagined he would appreciate the most in a woman.

 _These eyes are going to be the death of me one day, for I’m going to end up drowning in them, losing myself._ But he would gladly welcome such a death if it meant waking up to those eyes every day, for such a death would be sweeter than life had ever been. “Not at all. Tyrion’s lucky, he’s found his beauty, while I’m still yearning for mine,” he replied wistfully, finding his voice again, hoping she might take the hint this time atleast.

A shadow of gloom shrouded her face at once, replacing the radiant smile that had illuminated it seconds ago. “I’m sorry it turned out badly for you, Ser Jaime.” Her eyes darted around restlessly, looking everywhere, but at him. “I should probably leave,” she whispered, suddenly in a hurry.

Confused, though only for a moment, Jaime soon realised his folly. _S_ _he thinks I’m referring to Cersei._

“My lady.” He reached out to hold her hand, but hesitated, scared to touch her properly, while unable to resist brushing the tips of his fingers against hers. “After years of misleading myself, I’ve finally found my way home, to where my heart belongs.” When she said nothing, he went on. “Brienne the Beauty, they called you, didn’t they?”

She looked hurt, as though he had stabbed her through the heart. “Don’t _you_ mock me as well--”

“Gods, no!” He shook his head, taking her hand in his. “I would neither lie to you, nor jest or mock you. The gods are my witnesses, Brienne.” She didn’t shake his hand away, her lack of resistance providing him the much needed encouragement to go on. “I come here tonight in front of them--” he gestured to the sacred tree “--to confess my feelings to the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms, to _my beauty_ . I’ve been pining for her for too long, and with her consent, I hope to bring that to an end soon,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “I hope she accepts me, forgives me for the beast I’ve been to her in the past, and takes me as hers for the rest of her life. So here I am--” he lowered his head “--bowing to her, and _only_ her, as I lay my heart bare for her to see.”

Brienne lifted his chin, a shy smile gracing her lips when their eyes met.

“Would she--” he asked again, this time leaving no room for doubt, hoping for the reply his heart ached to hear “--accept me? Be mine?”

She took a tentative step closer. Then she kissed him. It was a light brush of her lips on his, as feathery as it could be, chapped and tender, rough and soft, dry and moist, everything at once. He closed his eyes and let go of himself, for this was nothing he had ever felt before, much less passionate than anything he had shared with Cersei, but far more heartfelt and loving than any of those. He knew quite well which one he preferred.

She broke away before he could come to terms with the moment, her cheeks a bright flaming red, looking even more adorable in the pale glow of the lamps. “Goodnight, Ser Jaime, it’s quite late--”

She began to move away when he caught her wrist and pulled her towards him. “My beauty,” he murmured, gazing into those eyes longingly. “She owes me an answer.” 

Brienne extricated her hand gently. “She never said no, did she?” she replied, her blush deepening. She dashed away, turning around to look at him one more time before he lost sight of her.

Smiling to himself, Jaime followed her with a spring in his step, wondering which of them was the happier of the two tonight-he or Tyrion?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Do share your feedback.


End file.
